


i knew your touch once in a dream

by victoriousscarf



Series: memories and old lovers in the whisper before the end [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Dragon Age: Inquisition Quest - In Hushed Whispers, Multi, Not A Fix-It, The mantra of this story is maximum angst points, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-07-25 08:51:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16194191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victoriousscarf/pseuds/victoriousscarf
Summary: The Herald is missing, the Breach is only growing, and Hawke rolls into Haven, blown by the wind and the snow.The Inquisition isn't down and it isn't quite out yet--but it's only a matter of time.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [qualapec](https://archiveofourown.org/users/qualapec/gifts).



> Me: I'm not going to start new stories, only finish!  
> Qualapec, a demon not even that much in disguise: Okay but Hawke and Cullen in the lost year  
> Me: Then again--

The scout found Cassandra and Cullen bowed together in the Chantry, staring at the map as if it would reveal any other secrets.

The days since the Herald had last been seen had stretched into weeks that had stretched into months and no one whispered of their return anymore. The Breach continued to expand and they were on their own.

“Sers,” the scout said, some two months after Redcliffe was closed off. “There’s someone approaching.”

“Do you know them?” Cassandra asked.

“No,” the scout said, shaking her head. “They’re still far away. It looks like a Mabari is at their side and they’re either carrying a tall walking stick or it’s a staff.”

“Just one?” Cassandra asked as Cullen slowly turned his head to look at the scout, something like dread and anticipation in his stomach.

“Just the one,” the scout nodded.

“Come on,” Cullen said, already heading for the gates. Snow was falling all around them as it turned toward dusk, even though the sky was still bright in its unnatural green glow.

“Who do you think it is?” Cassandra asked as they reached the gates and could see the figure walking toward them.

And Cullen knew, seeing the stranger’s gait exactly who it was. He had sharp eyesight, yes, but also an awareness of how other people moved. Samson had always had a unique gait, shoulders hunched together and yet rarely hurried.

Hawke had always swaggered around with a mix of confidence and complete terror at a given moment. He could be spotted coming miles away, light of foot and loud of mouth and always ready to flee, poised to not be there at a moment’s notice.

But Cullen only shook his head instead of answering Cassandra, because even wading through a snow storm Hawke moved exactly like he always had.

As he got closer, Cassandra’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not—”

Cullen could only sigh as Hawke finally alighted in Haven’s gates. He pushed his hood back and grinned, the red warpaint on his nose faded like he hadn’t reapplied it in several weeks but still, maddingly the same. “Champion,” Cullen greeted through his dry throat.

Hawke wrinkled his nose at him, the grin sliding right off his face. “I don’t use that title anymore, Knight- _Captain._ Or it is Knight-Commander? I didn’t have the time to check before I left Kirkwall.”

Cullen’s mouth pressed down into a thin line as Cassandra’s jaw dropped beside him. “The Champion?” she demanded. “ _You_ are Hawke?”

Hawke spread his arms out. “In the flesh, sorry to say.”

“Why have you come now?” she said, almost a wail. “We looked for you for months and now you simply appear?”

“Varric’s letters stopped coming,” Hawke said, and Cullen had to close his eyes for a minute, because Varric had been with the Herald when they went to speak to the free mages in Redcliffe.

“He knew where you were?” Cassandra said, hands curling into fists like she could have done anything to Varric.

“He knew where the dead drop was,” Hawke shrugged, his Mabari sitting down beside him and surveying Cullen, Cassandra, and the Inquisition guards around them. “I wasn’t really looking to be found.”

“He knew,” Cassandra spat. “He _lied_ to me.”

“He’s notable for lying to everyone,” Hawke said with a shrug. “Now, where is he?”

“We don’t know,” Cullen said and Hawke’s eyes snapped over to him.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“He, along with the others, have been missing for over two months,” Cullen said.

“Then point the way,” Hawke said, already turning like he might just go.

“No,” Cullen said, too quickly and turned back to give him a narrow-eyed look. “We’ve lost too many going after them already. No one can get through to Redcliffe anymore.”

“Redcliffe?” Hawke asked. “Where the dead were raised during the Blight?”

“Lots of dead seem to be rising,” Cassandra muttered, because the Herald had gone to the Fallow Mire before they disappeared.

“How did you even know that story?” Cullen asked and Hawke shrugged, one lift of his shoulder.

“Heard it at a party. Still, seems like a bad place to go missing.”

“It was occupied by the free mages,” Cassandra said and Hawke’s eyes shadowed for a moment.

“Ah,” he said, slow and soft and Cullen wanted to reach out to him, ask him where he had even been in the last three years, where Anders was, how he was even _doing_ with the droop of his shoulders and Buster looking a bit thinner and leaner than Cullen had ever seen him before.

But Cassandra seemed to finally snap before he could. “Where have you _been_?” she demanded, leaning forward, and if both her hands weren’t in the air in front of her, Cullen would have worried she was going for her sword. “Do you know we were looking for you?”

“I was aware,” Hawke said, slow again, like he was holding himself back from—something.

“And yet you did nothing?” Cassandra spat. “You were there, you could have been a voice of reason. We were floundering for anyone to aid us, to stop this war, and you were just in hiding? What was so important?”

“A voice of reason?” Hawke asked and then laughed, a creaky horrible sound and Cullen winced. “You’re kidding. I was many things, but never a voice of reason.”

“You started the mage rebellion—”

“Did I?” Hawke asked. “I remember the mages _voting_ to dissolve the Circle. Kirkwall was just a stop on the road, that’s all.”

“People respected you—”

“People feared me,” Hawke snapped. “They never respected me.”

“You could have—”

“The last time I interfered with anything a Chantry was blown up, the First Enchanter turned himself into an abomination made out of corpses, and Meredith, the last leader standing lost her fucking mind and then turned into a red lyrium statue,” Hawke said, an edge creeping back into his voice. “You’ll have to excuse me if I didn’t really want to put myself in that sort of situation again.”

Cassandra’s jaw clicked shut so hard Cullen winced.

“You still could have done something.”

“No, I really couldn’t have,” Hawke said and looked over his shoulder again. “Thank you for your honesty. I came to look for Varric—”

“You can’t go to Redcliffe,” Cullen said, the snow still swirling around them and Hawke slowly looked over at him. “You’ll die.”

Hawke blinked at him once and then shrugged again.

“We could use you here,” Cullen said.

“Did I not just—”

“Hawke,” Cullen said, softer, the snow almost swallowing it up, but if there was one thing Hawke could never turn down it was a plea for help. “We’re trying to close the Breach. It’s going to swallow the world at the rate it’s going. Please. Help us.”

Hawke tipped his chin back, looking at the green glow that was pulsing through the clouds. “I know.”

“We don’t have much,” Cullen said. “Our best, perhaps our only hope, has disappeared.”

“I heard stories about the Herald of Andraste,” Hawke said. “Varric respected that elf an awful lot.”

“Yes he did,” Cullen agreed. “Which is why you should _stay_.”

Hawke looked away, back toward the twilight he had come for before he sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “Is that so? A Templar, asking a mage to stay?”

Cullen’s mouth worked for a moment. “I’m not a Templar anymore,” he said and Hawke frowned at him. “I left the order. I did not want to be bound to them anymore.”

Hawke arched his brow, like he didn’t quite believe that before he leaned back on one foot and finally nodded. “Well, it’s not like my calendar isn’t clear,” he said and Cullen let out a long breath, Cassandra tense and angry beside him.

-0-

Cullen couldn’t sleep that night again, not helped by knowing Hawke was there, so close for the first time in three years. He had seen him briefly as Hawke settled down in one of the tents set up in front of the Chantry, Buster trotting along behind him and at least some things didn’t change. But he had not had another chance to speak to him, Hawke turning away the one time Cullen caught his eye.

So when Cullen left the Chantry it was certainly _not_ to go looking for Hawke. But when he spotted him sitting on the halfway in front of Haven’s gates Cullen turned his steps there. Buster let him approach with only a soft woof, Hawke not looking up.

“So not a Templar anymore,” Hawke said before Cullen even had the chance to greet him. No night was truly dark anymore, but Cullen hated the sickly light of the Breach and what it did to Hawke’s face.

“No,” Cullen said.

“You seemed like, how to say it? A true believer?” Hawke said, still having not turned toward him.

“I was,” Cullen said, and hesitated before he moved forward the last few steps, sitting down next to Hawke. His staff was across his lap, his fingers idly moving up and down the wood as he kept staring at the gates instead of looking at Cullen. “It—didn’t really matter though, did it? The Knight-Commander went mad and I—I was responsible for too much.”

“Lots of people had to let it happen for it to get that bad,” Hawke murmured.

“I’m surprised,” Cullen said, Hawke finally looking over. “That you’re alone.”

“Alone? I’m not alone,” Hawke said, Buster making another woofing sound as Hawke patted his ruff. “I got Buster with me.”

“That’s not who I meant,” Cullen said and Hawke looked away again.

“I know who you meant,” he muttered.

“I’m not prying,” Cullen said. “About _where_ he is just—”

“You can’t be surprised why he’s not here,” Hawke said.

“To be fair he did come to the Gallows,” Cullen said. “I couldn’t believe it at the time, that a mage would so brazenly—” he cut off when Hawke’s eyes slid over to him.

“And what exactly did you think _I_ was?” Hawke asked, arching a brow.

“I didn’t want to,” Cullen said. “So I didn’t think much about it. You were smart enough to leave your staff at home most of the time you came sniffing around for work.”

“Still, that’s an awful lot of purposeful ignorance,” Hawke said and Cullen shrugged.

“It’s what I wanted to believe.”

“Too bad taking the Arishock out with actual lightning sorta ruined that, huh?” Hawke said with a shaky laugh, leaning forward and drawing one knee up to his chest. His staff was still in his lap though and Cullen tried not to focus too much on how close Hawke was keeping it at all moments. “No denial left after that.”

“No,” Cullen agreed because there hadn’t been and for a while he had hated Hawke for that.

They sat in silence for a moment, Cullen trying not to look up at the sky anymore than he had to. “Why do you want me here?” Hawke asked.

“Because when the world is going mad,” Cullen said. “There’s no one I’d rather have at my side.”

Hawke gave him a disbelieving look. “Usually it seemed like I was the reason it was going mad.”

“No,” Cullen shook his head. “No, you were always there but you didn’t cause those things. They would have happened despite you.”

Hawke let out a breath, Cullen watching the mist of it float away. It had mostly stopped snowing, only a few flakes drifting down to land in Hawke’s dark hair. “That’s nice of you to say.”

“Meredith was already mad,” Cullen insisted.

“Yeah well finding red lyrium didn’t really help that, now did it?” Hawke asked.

“Are you honestly blaming yourself for that?” Cullen asked.

“There’s a long list,” Hawke said, spreading his arms out. “Of things I blame myself for.”

“Well I don’t blame you for them,” Cullen said, earning another look from Hawke. “I don’t. You did what you had to to survive.”

“This might all be the nicest thing anyone has said to me in years,” Hawke said, some of his usual inflection finally leaking into his voice. “Too bad I don’t actually believe you.”

“I want you to be here,” Cullen said instead of replying to that. “Because the world is ending. And no one knows what to do except that we’re going to keep fighting. And you’re good at that. No matter what happens you’ll keep fighting.”

“Seriously, just the nicest things.”

“I’m glad you’re here, Hawke,” Cullen said and Hawke stared at him for a long moment.

“I’ll try to be worth that regard,” he said after a long minute and Cullen sighed before he nodded, accepting that.

“So that lady,” Hawke said. “Cassandra, right?” Cullen nodded again. “She has some really misguided beliefs about me, doesn’t she?”

“She thought you might lead the Inquisition, once upon a time,” Cullen said as Hawke barked out a somewhat hysterical laugh. “You would have been a good leader.”

“The fuck I would have,” Hawke said. “I once got lost for three hours on the Wounded Coast and passed it off as admiring the view on a beautiful day. Me, leading people?” he shook his head. “Not a good idea.”

“You inspire people,” Cullen protested.

“And look how well that’s worked out for everyone,” Hawke said, and Cullen had to look away. “But. As you said. I’m a fighter. So I’ll stay. I’ll fight. But I’m not going to lead anyone.”

Cullen nodded again, throat tight. “That’s fine,” he said and Hawke looked away, one hand on his staff and the other on Buster’s ruff. Knowing he had already overstayed what little welcome he had, Cullen couldn’t force himself to stand yet. “I missed you,” he said, before he could stop himself and Hawke huffed out a breath.

“Sure you did,” he murmured and this time Cullen forced himself to his feet and away from Hawke, certain more than he had been earlier that night that he wouldn’t find any sleep. But then again, he so rarely seemed to anymore.

Before he reached the Chantry he turned once to look over his shoulder, Hawke where he had left him, leaning against Buster. He closed the door behind him, finally blocking out the light of the Breach.


	2. Chapter 2

Cassandra stood waiting for him in the half circle clearing in front of the Chantry the next morning, which dawned pale sick past the Breach. They had pulled all the tents back from the walls in front of Haven as their population dwindled. “Why did you ask him to stay?” Cassandra asked, practice sword in one hand.

Cullen let out a breath. “You’re the one who spent months looking for him.”

“When it might have mattered,” she said. “I’m not sure it does, after the Conclave was destroyed. I thought he could help end this war he started,” and Cullen, strangely, wanted to point out what Hawke had the night before—that he hadn’t started the rebellion the mages in the circles were the ones who eventually took up their own arms. But, that wasn’t quite fair either, as they might never had felt the power to do so without Hawke and Anders’ actions in Kirkwall. “But that doesn’t even matter anymore.”

“He’s still a fighter,” Cullen said. “I trust him with my life,” he added, because that was still true. It had been true since the day Hawke barreled into him on the Wounded Coast, offering his help for coin with a grin on his face and hands behind his back. Carver had been the one holding his staff, giving his brother sharp looks behind his back and Cullen had, well, ignored that completely.

He thought at some point he should have stopped trusting Hawke, but somehow whenever the chips were down he found himself looking over his shoulder, hoping Hawke might be there. He usually had been.

“Do you trust him to stay?” Cassandra asked and Cullen shrugged.

“We need all the help we can get,” he said. “And he stayed in Kirkwall. He didn’t run until it was safer for the city itself for him to go.”

“Is that how you define how he left?” Cassandra asked, arching a disbelieving brow at him.

“He left because he was scared an Exalted March would be declared,” Cullen said. And because Cullen and the other Templars had certainly encouraged it in the immediate aftermath of Meredith’s fall. But before things had gone finally so wrong, when he had been pretending not to like Hawke or care what he did, Hawke had still occasionally come through the Gallows, eyes dark and shoulders heavy. He had mentioned his encounter with Sister Nightingale on one of those visits. At the time Cullen hadn’t understood Hawke choosing to unburden himself to him about it, but later he realized it had been both a warning and possible explanation.

Cassandra was giving him a look. “How well did you know the Champion?” she asked, because they had never really talked about it. They talked about the Inquisition, new hopes, and battle plans. Cassandra had gotten her answers about Kirkwall from Varric, and rarely came to him with more questions and he had volunteered little.

“Varric mentioned me,” Cullen said, shifting slightly. “I know he did.”

“But I did not realize you knew each other well enough for—” she paused. “Were you close?”

“I don’t know,” Cullen said, half a life because Hawke had called him friend sometimes, making shame curl in Cullen’s stomach for some of the things he had said to Hawke over the years, bitter and angry things. And Cullen, well, Cullen had turned on his own commander with Hawke’s life on the line.

“But you want him to stay,” Cassandra said, not a question.

“If he will, yes,” Cullen said and she crossed her arms again.

“I admit I’m curious to see him in action,” she said after a minute.

The corner of Cullen’s mouth twitched. “It is quite the sight,” he murmured and she was watching him too closely again as he turned away.

-0-

Hawke sunk himself into Haven as quickly as he seemed to adapt to where ever he was. Cullen spotted him that night with Sera and the Iron Bull in the tavern, squished between them with a mug in one hand and a broad smile on his face. It didn’t fit his slumped shoulders and bitter eyes of the night before and for the first time Cullen actually wondered how often Hawke’s smile was just a disguise.

Cassandra watched him an awful lot, and Cullen tried to avoid him.

Which barely lasted two days before Cullen entered the Chantry to find Hawke standing with his arms crossed and leaning back on one leg as Vivienne stared at him with one hand on her hip. “For an apostate, you’re not shabby,” she said and Cullen came to a complete stop.

“How kind of you,” Hawke drawled, slow. “It’s all natural talent of course.”

Vivienne’s eyes narrowed. “Oh darling, I highly doubt that,” and Hawke’s face twitched. “Your father had been trained in the Circle, hadn’t he?”

“For all the good that did him,” Hawke said, voice dropping.

“Still, he had training, and you had training,” Vivienne said as if she had won a point. “Doesn’t that just prove how important training is?”

“You seem to have this weird correlation between training and imprisonment being the same thing,” Hawke said.

“You never lived in a Circle, dear, I’m not sure you quite know what it’s like.”

Cullen said had his back to the door and he was increasingly certain he should just step backward and back out into the midmorning light.

“I don’t have to live in a prison to know what I’m looking at,” Hawke snarled. “I’ve been in enough of them now.”

“Kirkwall—”

“You’re going to say Kirkwall was just the exception, aren’t you?” Hawke cut her off and she shifted slightly, obviously not pleased. “Fuck that, it wasn’t.”

“How would you know?” Vivienne asked. “I’m not saying there can’t be bad Circles—”

“The Circle themselves are bad!” Hawke snapped. “They steal children and lock them away and teach them that they’re wrong and dangerous and need to be controlled—”

“We are dangerous—”

“We don’t need to be constrained! We don’t need to be beaten and raped and locked in solitary and turned Tranquil—”

“Kirkwall—”

“I’m not even talking about Kirkwall, I’m talking about Ferelden,” Hawke said, like this time he had been the one to score a point. “Or did you think I based all my opinions on just one instance?”

Vivienne’s hand had tightened on her hip before she carefully dropped it. “Two still does not make a pattern.”

“And yet the mages were willing to vote for their freedom,” Hawke said. “That must mean they weren’t very happy with the circumstances either.”

“They were short sighted fools,” Vivienne said.

“Or maybe you’re just refusing to see the problem—”

“It’s hardly like you’re unbiased,” Vivienne said. “An apostate with an apostate lover, willing to commit heinous crimes in the name of their cause, just like those mages who voted to leave the Circle without once thinking about the long term consequences—”

“Like having their freedom?”

“Freedom may not be the sole end goal that’s worthy to pursue—”

“Then what is?” Hawke asked. “We’re people, all of us,” he said, jaw set. “We deserve to be free as much as anyone. We deserve to prove ourselves and live without the constant fear and threat of a Templar’s sword or their Tranquil brand.”

“Mages are far more dangerous than the average person,” Vivienne said.

“So that’s reason to strip our personhood from us?” Hawke asked and then stopped, looking over at Cullen who realized all at once Hawke had known he was there for the beginning. “Of course, I keep forgetting most of Thedas doesn’t see us as people, does it?”

Cullen’s jaw dropped before he could help it, Vivienne looking over at him in surprise. “Hawke—”

“What was it you said, exactly?” Hawke asked, twisting the knife. “Mages aren’t people like you and me?”

“That was a long time ago,” Cullen said, Vivienne blinking at him.

“Yeah, well, you were a shiny example of the Templar order,” Hawke said. “Promoted so fast despite your age, in charge of so many mage’s lives, not even seeing them as people like you, just as the enemy. But I mean, I’m sure _most_ Templars are measured and careful folks who would never raise their fist or foot to a mage.”

“I never beat—” Cullen started.

“It’s not like your rebel mages haven’t participated in their own violence,” Vivienne broke in. “They killed their fellow mages in their bid for freedom, let alone the havoc they’ve participated in since.”

“Hey, you were a Templar in both Ferelden and Kirkwall too,” Hawke said. “Why don’t you grace us with how well the Templars treated mages in both circles? Sure, Ferelden wasn’t _as_ bad, locking mages in solitary confinement for a year, beating and raping them and breaking up any pairs that formed because mages weren’t allowed to love in either of your Circles. What, would it have made it too hard to rape them if you had their lover begging you to stop?”

“I never,” Cullen started again.

“But did that happen?” Hawke snapped.

“Yes,” Cullen said, his throat dry. “But the Circles don’t exist anymore.”

“Sure,” Hawke said with a shrug. “But if people like you two had your way they would again.”

“I never said they didn’t need reform,” Vivienne said, voice sounding oddly scratchy.

“Reforming a prison doesn’t make it less of a prison, or its jailers any more humane,” Hawke said. “But you know, whatever honestly. It’s not like it looks like we’ll have a world long enough to really worry about it, you know?”

“We must look to the future,” Vivienne said. “We must believe we will find a way forward from here.”

“Would you look at that,” Hawke remarked. “An optimist. I would never have guessed that of you, Madame de Fer.”

“We all do what we must,” she said voice tight and Hawke just shook his head, turning to go but Cullen caught his arm when he reached the door.

“Hawke,” he said softly. “You know—”

“What?” Hawke said, looking at his hand and then glaring up at him. “You’re not a Templar anymore? Does that honestly matter? Do you think just walking away from the Order makes up for anything you did while you belonged to it? You can’t just wash your hands and pretend its fine and you did enough.”

“I know,” Cullen said.

“But you’re still no friend to mages, are you?” Hawke hissed and Cullen winced, because he could remember Hawke once looking over at him, shadows heavy under his eyes but finding a smile. _Just checking up on an old friend in these troubled times_ , he had said, Cullen staring at him in such confusion.

Cullen wondered now if Hawke had meant that at all. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

“I should go,” Hawke said, turning away but Cullen hadn’t let go of his arm yet so Hawke looked down, staring at Cullen’s hand like he didn’t want to violently break his grip but dearly wished it to be gone.

“I’m sorry,” Cullen said, pained and Hawke just shook his head.

“Can you even tell me what you’re sorry for.”

“Everything.”

“That’s far too broad to be meaningful,” Hawke said. “Now let go.”

“Hawke—”

“Let go,” Hawke repeated so Cullen did, watching him slam the door of the Chantry.

For a moment Vivienne stared at the door in silence, Cullen’s stomach twisting. “Was he always this angry?” Vivienne asked.

“I don’t know,” Cullen said softly. “Varric would be better able to answer it. He used to hide it under his, well, swagger.”

“I don’t trust him,” Vivienne said, but she was staring at Cullen like she was reevaluating him and Cullen almost wanted to ask what her Circle had even been like, to judge anything he or Hawke had said.

“I need to go over the reports,” he muttered instead, fleeing from her gaze and from the memory of Hawke’s rage lashing out around him.      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vivienne and Hawke I think would have a /lot/ to talk about (I mean argue about). It's sorta tragic in all time Hawke is around Skyhold she never confronts him about the mage rebellion and he never like snarls at her (if he supported the mages flat out). But then again Hawke in Inquisition is so depressed it doesn't seem to matter. 
> 
> Also ironically I do see this as a mostly Purple!Hawke but I think all Hawke's are a bit blue and purple and red and it just depends on what they choose to emphasis about themselves (Blue!Hawke for instance always seems to be leashing some of that rage and some of that snark like they're maybe a little scared of themselves) so he's leaning more red! at the moment which is partly why Cullen is so terribly thrown. 
> 
> Anyway they all have a lot of issues to work out.


	3. Chapter 3

That night Hawke sat in the small tavern, leaning back against the wall with Buster sleeping on his feet. He cradled a mug against his chest, Sera sitting across from him with an unhappy twist to her mouth. “This is bogus.”

“The beer isn’t even that bad,” Hawke remarked, casual.

“Bah, that ain’t what I meant,” Sera said.

“I know,” Hawke said, taking a sip and going back to holding the mug against his chest. “There’s an awful lot of rifts around Haven, I noticed.”

“No way to close them,” Sera said.

“Sure,” Hawke said. “But if you want to get some of that rage out by destroying demons, we probably need more supplies.”

“What, a raiding party?” she asked, perking up.

“Has to happen at some point,” Hawke said.

“They’ve started pulling us back,” Sera said, her shoulders seeming to drop. “Our parties weren’t doing that well and we couldn’t reach Redcliffe. Besides, I could use up all my arrows and after a while it stopped helping. It’s not going to bring her back.”

Hawke looked down, as if he was staring at the liquid in his cup instead of some unfathomable distance. “Sometimes nothing brings the people we love back. They just leave us and that’s it. But you know, I’d still rather punch a demon in the face.”

Sera looked at him like she was considering that before she grinned. “I’ll go ask the Iron Bull. I’m sure he’d like to come.”

“Hell yeah, I’m sure he would,” Hawke agreed and she was up and off, having decided to do something and seeing no point to wasting time.

Hawke stayed behind, still staring at his mug, listening to his dog snore at his feet and he wondered if anyone else could tell that he was ready to fall apart.

-0-

“Are you serious about this?” Cullen asked the next morning, Hawke standing next to the gates of Haven and idly twirling his staff in the air, the early morning already a bright green.

“Why wouldn’t I be serious about this?” Hawke said.

“We’ve lost a lot of patrols,” Cullen said and Hawke could have sworn he was gritting his teeth together.

“Yeah? So have all the villages around here, probably. First you had the Mage and Templar war waging around them,” and something was very wrong with Cullen’s expression so Hawke just kept barreling on. “And then you have the explosion at the temple, and then the rifts that suddenly aren’t getting closed and the growing Breach. So you can’t get into Redcliffe anymore. We’re not going to just pull back and hide here until we die, are we?”

Cullen scrubbed a hand over his face. “I thought you didn’t want to lead anymore.”

“I’m sorry, is going out on a supply run leading?” Hawke asked, lightly and Cullen was staring at him. “What?”

“Isn’t that how it started in Kirkwall?” Cullen asked. “You and a merry band of misfits.”

Hawke’s mouth thinned as Iron Bull wandered up. “Did you hear that, Bull? Cullen considers us a band of misfits.”

“Is that what we are?” Bull asked, holding an ax casually over one shoulder and Cullen took a breath before giving Hawke a very particular sort of look.

But honestly Hawke was tried of trying to figure out all the looks people gave him. He’d used to be so good at it, but somehow he had missed the goodbye in Anders’ eyes before he disappeared. So he had no particular desire to figure out what Cullen was trying to tell him without saying anything.

“What?” Hawke asked, crossing his arms over his chest, staff held in the crook of one elbow.

“I’m supposed to be the leader of our armed forces,” Cullen said.

“I haven’t joined your fucking army,” Hawke replied, tone casual despite his words.

Cullen’s mouth went thin. “You’ll be careful.”

“When have I not been careful?” Hawke asked and Bull was the one to bite back a laugh a little too late at that. Hawke tilted his head up to stare at him.

“Sorry,” Bull said. “Even _I_ know the stories. I mean, not just the killing the Arishock one either.”

“No hard feelings, right?” Hawke asked.

“What would be the point?” Bull asked with a shrug, Sera popping up beside them.

“Are we going?”

“Yeah,” Hawke said, Buster sniffing the snow around them. “Look, Knight-Captain—”

“I’m not—”

“We promise to be careful and play nice with the demons and drag back any supplies we find. We’ll be good little foot soldiers.”

Cullen closed his eyes before he opened them again to stare at Hawke for a long moment before he sighed. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Hawke placed a hand on his chest like he couldn’t believe the accusation and Cullen stood there another moment longer than he should have before walking away.

“Shall we?” Hawke asked, turning and heading for the door before anyone bothered to answer him.

-0-

The first day they didn’t encounter much as they pressed into the Hinterlands, just a few hungry looking bears and a few stray demons who had wandered away from a portal. And an awful lot of skeletons, scattered across the valleys and hills, like people had been fleeing.

That night they stopped at an old camp site, the Inquisition banner tattered and blowing in the wind.

“I remember this one,” Bull said, peering around. “Shit really has gone down since we lost the ability to close the rifts.”

“There’s gotta be a way,” Hawke said, having scrounged around and come up with some wet wood. He dumped it in the middle of the camp site and didn’t bother to try and light it any way that wasn’t magic.

“You don’t really bother to hide, do you?” Bull asked after a moment, staring at the flames.

“What would be the point?” Hawke shrugged. “Besides, I got out of the habit of being scared.”

“Were you?” Bull asked, peering up at him like he was surprised.

“Of Templars?” Hawke asked. “I was an apostate. Of course I grew up terrified of them.”

“And yet you took them all on,” Bull said and Hawke flopped down on the other side of the fire with a sigh.

“Times change,” Hawke shrugged. “Is it going to be like this tonight? Question the apostate about their motivations for starting a revolution that really fucked things up?”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Bull asked, like he was actually just curious.

“No,” Hawke said and Bull shrugged, pulling a bottle of some wine out of his pack.

“Then no, it doesn’t have to be.”

“Good,” Hawke said, accepting the bottle when it was passed to him before he looked over at Sera, who sat with her legs crossed and her arms around her knees. “You doing alright?”

“I miss her sometimes,” she said. “Last time I was here, so was she.”

Hawke passed her the bottle without even taking a drink from it. “I know the feeling.”

“Didn’t you have a lover?” Bull asked. “There’s one in that book Varric wrote that we all read.”

“Yes,” Hawke said shortly.

“But they didn’t come with you?” Sera asked, taking a long drink from the bottle and passing it back to Hawke.

“No, they certainly didn’t,” Hawke said tightly.

“They okay?” Sera asked softly.

“Good question,” Hawke said, the bitterness leaking into his voice. “He left, when he knew I had no way to follow him.” He took a deep swallow from the bottle, ignoring the silence around him.

“That sucks,” Bull said after a beat.

“Yes, it rather does,” Hawke said, handing the bottle back to him.

It turned out Bull had not one but three bottles hidden in his bag and they all made the unfortunate choice of forgetting they were alone in a landscape full of demons as they all tried to drink their sorrows away.

-0-

When they staggered back into Haven five days later with a band of refugees far more numerous than Hawke had expected, Cullen stood at the gate.

“Where you just waiting here every day or something?” Hawke asked, squinting at him.

“Yes,” Cullen said. “You look terrible.”

“Poor choices were made,” Hawke shrugged, because he hadn’t had the energy to heal all the bruises and scrapes they’d gotten. “We started early and went hard.”

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, shaking his head slightly. “You brought people back.”

“They were hiding out in a cave,” Hawke said. “There’s two mages among them, they had enough of a barrier going but it wasn’t going to last much longer. We hit as many of those hidden caches Cassandra told us about on the way and it will help for a while.”

“It’s more than we had yesterday,” Cullen said, watching the people stumble inside. “You tend to do that, don’t you?”

“What?” Hawke asked, because his headache hadn’t gone away in days and he wanted to hide somewhere with walls and a door and block out the light of the Breach.

“Bring hope where ever you go.”

“Oh fuck you,” Hawke said automatically.

“I meant that,” Cullen said softly. “You came here and you’re already finding refugees and bringing them back when we’ve become paralyzed by our own fear.”

“Yeah, well, you’re all organization and responsible for people’s lives so you automatically become more risk adverse,” Hawke shrugged. “Me? I’m not responsible for anyone.”

“Maybe,” Cullen said.

“Look, you guys were just at a low point,” Hawke said. “You would have figured out your next move soon enough.”

“Probably,” Cullen said.

“Look, would you _stop_?” Hawke demanded. “I don’t understand what you’re doing, we weren’t friends in Kirkwall—”

“You’re the one who called me that,” Cullen said and Hawke clicked his jaw shut. “Just checking up on an old friend is how you said it.”

“That was before—”

“Before what?”

“Before you supported the rite of annulment,” Hawke snapped, leaning forward before he realized it.

“I didn’t,” Cullen said through gritted teeth.

“You didn’t fight her either, until,” and Hawke stopped, staring at Cullen as Cullen stared back at him. The moment just kept going until it ached and broke. “It wasn’t the mage children that made you change your mind, or all the mages that had been slaughtered up to that point.”

“Hawke,” Cullen said softly.

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Hawke said, turning away.

“ _Hawke_ ,” Cullen said, catching his arm.

“No,” Hawke said, turning back around. “No, just stop it. I don’t want to think about it, or deal with it, or talk it through or whatever—”

“You’re just going to ignore—”

“As much as I can,” Hawke replied and Cullen let his arm go.

“If that’s how you want it to be,” Cullen said stiffly.

“Yes, it rather is,” Hawke said and walked away as fast as he could without running, trying to ignore the looks he was getting, not just from the refugees but from everyone else in the square too. Especially Cullen who was probably watching him go.


End file.
